


Royal in the Afternoon

by skund



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The domestic cohabitation of two alpha males. AKA Love is letting someone annoy the snot out of you, and liking them anyways. Written for [livejournal.com profile] starsandsea and her random music prompt The Whitlam's Royal in the Afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal in the Afternoon

_Can we be bigger than my old habits?  
Over my dead body, but still  
And if I am awake in the morning  
We’ll be royal in the afternoon_

  
“Don’t touch that,” Bruce’s voice was rough with sleep and exhaustion. Clark looked up from where he was browsing the morning papers that Alfred had artfully arranged on the breakfast table.

“I was just looking-“

“You were touching. Don’t touch. Those are in order already.”

Clark quirked an eyebrow, but the effect was lost in his striped, cotton pyjamas. “And when am I permitted to read the newspaper?”

Bruce huffed and strode over to the table and flipped through the stack of newsprint before picking one out and handing it to Clark.

“The Nigerian Tribune. Thanks.” Clark snarked.

The sound of the coffee machine had already lured Bruce towards the kitchen, but he waved two fingers over his shoulder as he left.

\---

“You moved my stuff!” Clark was spitfire when he felt wronged.

Bruce looked up from his paperwork wide eyed. “What, no I-“

“You did. I left my notes for the Emmerson story right here,” he pointed empathetically at the now empty desk Bruce had bought just for him, “and now they’re gone.”

“Clark, I didn’t-“

“You can be so impossible sometimes!” Clark snapped and he turned on his heel and stormed out the door. The study fell suddenly silent, like the calm after a storm.

\---

“-terribly sorry, I wasn’t aware Master Bruce had set aside that area of the study for your use. The papers were in such disarray I thought there were for the recycling.”

“It’s alright, Alfred, no harm done. I’ll go dig them out now.”

“Oh no, sir, allow me-“

Bruce smirked into his fifth cup of coffee upon hearing the conversation drift in from the hall, but decided not to interrupt.

\---

Bruce was juggling his ninth cup in one hand and a lunchtime conference call in the other, wandering through the house in his socks. Sometimes it was good to be the king. There was a ruckus coming from the entertainment room as he wandered past. As soon as he did the excitement crescendoed into a roar.

“GOAL!” the television and Clark yelled in unison, as on screen men in bright colours started running around with their shirts over their heads. Bruce winced and ducked back out of the room. And closed the door for good measure.

\---

“Why are there coffee cups all over the house!?” No one could deny that Clark Kent had a good set of lungs, when he wanted to use them.

Bruce pretended to be even more absorbed in his newspaper.

\---

Later, Bruce was just leaving the sunroom with a mission. He'd just read an article in the Star City Crier from that hussy Sheridan that Clark would just love to read. Bruce could already imagine the condescension on his face, and he was hoping he would work out of Clark a few more stories from last year’s Pulitzer after-party.

He rapped his knuckles softly on the solid oak, then paused momentarily to wonder when he’d gotten in the habit of knocking at his own study door. Silence. He pushed the door in slowly, and leaned in.

“Are you busy? There’s this incredible article…”

He was talking to himself. The room was empty, and Clark’s desk looked like a bomb had gone off. So things were normal, then. Bruce frowned; he hadn’t seen or heard Clark in any other part of the house… It was then he noticed the bay windows thrown wide, showing the wide blue sky beyond. Ah. The article would have to wait, then.

\---

But Bruce couldn’t wait. He’d gone for his customary nap at 4pm sharp. Clark wasn’t around to argue so he didn’t have to argue that they weren’t ‘Bat naps’, thank you very much, and he could proceed with his slumber on time. But he lay in bed in the dark and silent room and argued with the Clark in his head for half an hour anyway.

\---

He woke to a cool breeze on his face. Eyes slid slowly open to take in the dim room, but the drapes were drawn and the widows open, letting the last of the day’s light. He turned his head towards them and was met with a sudden heat. Clark. He was laying curled around him, head propped up on one elbow.

Bruce frowned. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes.” Clark replied with a goofy smile. Whatever emergency he’d responded to must’ve been near the ocean – he smelled of salt and sunshine.

“That’s creepy.” Bruce deadpanned.

“You’re creepy.” Clark replied with the same grin. He reached thick fingers to run them through Bruce’s sleep tousled hair.

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes in pleasure. He reached out his arm to pull Clark closer to him. “You’d know.”

Clark was still grinning, but by now his lips were pressed against Bruce’s. It was an odd sensation, feeling that smile. Bruce liked it.

“Yeah,” Clark breathed against his mouth, “I guess I would.”

Anything else Clark was going to say was lost as Bruce caught his lips in a kiss and pulled Clark down on top of him. This was going to throw his evening schedule totally out of whack.

But it was worth it.


End file.
